Description: Training with the Metro Three! El Fuerte tries to get Brett to butch up a bit, but finds he's a little less berserker than he expected...and a lot more loath to wear spikes as well.
The harbor is a place where many criminal scum come to make their illicit deals. It is an area that El Fuerte has been investigating a lot as he continues to search clues for Duke's whereabouts and any other notorious things he can find about the people he works with. His search up until now has been fruitless, though at the very least he has discovered that no more of the Mad Gear gang prowl about in this area, it is a good thing he thinks, that means that they got them on the run!
Or maybe they have relocated somewhere else, probably somewhere nicer, with blackjack and stuff...
But anyway, a good way to incite trouble is to move in to you old foe's base, and being the reckless sort that he is, El Fuerte decides to temp fate and start playing around where the Mad Gear gangsters' old stomping ground bringing along one of his team mates. Somersaulting his way into the harbor, El Fuerte lands on his feet and starts inspecting the area to see if anyone might be eavesdropping. "Looks like the area is clear amigo!" He says to his companion.
Indeed, the Harbor is one of the many known criminal hangouts around the city, due to the rather...utilitarian and often unguarded nature of the district. Not a lot of investment in keeping security up or police presence either...making it the perfect place for criminal meeting.
Making it also the perfect place for investigation. Following the luchador in tempting fate, Brett Neuer found himself slipping into the harbor along with Fuerte, a motorcycle helmet covering his head in lieu of his usual hockey helm. Yes, he was convinced finally to get a mask of SOME sort. Even if he found himself turning way to often to try and compensate for the perceived lack of peripheral vision he keeps having. "You sure?" He asks, adjusting the helmet a little more before both hands come up to his stick again. This...vigilante thing is really going to take some getting used to.
"Sure I'm sure!" Comes El Fuerte's whimsical response certain that they are not about to get mugged by blood thirsty hooligans. He is either far too used to deal with criminals or his insanity is preventing him from understanding just what kind of danger he's getting into. Whatever the reason, this vigilante jig comes naturally to him.
Doing a few laps around the harbor just to prove his point, El Fuerte does a few other acrobatic maneuvers to put a show, as if saying 'Come and Get Me' to those nasty Mad Gear punks.
When no one comes he rushes towards the shy acting Brett and bonks him a couple of times on his helmet being the general nuisance that he is "Hermano! Why do you insist on wearing this thing to cover your face? I told you a mask and then your normal helmet would work just fine! You could be like the hockey ninja!"
Continuing to fidget with the motorcycle helmet, Brett finally pushes the visor up, sighing at Fuerte's acrobatic bounding around the apparently abandoned harbor. Still...it does look abandoned. I mean, if that doesn't get people's attention....
"I'm not going to wear a mask with that. Anyways...it's going to be too easy to connect dots, don't you think?" he asks, hunching his shoulders up with the repeated smacks atop his helmet from the smaller luchador. "A-a-anyway, this looks ilke a bust, doesn't it?"
El Fuerte hmms and taps his chin in thought, a rare occasion in which he actually /slows the eff down/ and thinks. "The problem is that your style is too unique! No matter how you're dressed it would be easy to pin point you." He thinks some more "Maybe by completely redoing your design, like la seņorita Fuji does! I know not of any other fighter that uses a cane and no one could tell she was Bartitsu Mask due to her gaudy costume. Perhaps we should do the same thing with you, give you a leather jacket, put some spikes on your helmet...that's it!! We need you to act as if you were someone else!
El Fuerte moves away putting some space between him and the masked Brett. "This might not be a total bust! We can use this time to work on your super hero alter ego! Someone that is much more macho! For example!" He points out, giving a few more knocks on Brett's helmet. "Your coy attitude has to go amigo, you have to be meaner!"
Brett sweats underneath hish elmet at the suggestions that Fuerte starts to fire off at him. He glances down at himself, swallowing a lump in his throat the way he suggests a total costume overhaul. "...spikes...on my helmet? Are you sure about this?" he asks, clapping hands on the motorcycle helmet again, simply not able to envision himself wearing a helmet with spikes. "I mean...not even using something like a normal stick or staff? I mean, most people are gonna connect hockey if I use a hockey stick, but..."
And the advice to try and butch up brings another sweat to the hockey kid's face. "...yeah, I know, but..." Sure, it's something he knows he really has to do, but it's also not something he's exactly finding easy, without...you know, being in the heat of things to begin with.
"Come on! Think about it!" El Fuerte jumps at the idea of Brett putting spikes on his helmet "Would the polite and reserved Seņor Neuer go into the streets goring hoodlums while dressed in an all black leather jacket and a spiked helmet and a metal hockey stick!? No one would be able to recognize you! They would stick that's just some 'loco' out for blood!" Now he's getting to something here, hold that thought!
Fuerte notices Brett's sweat bead and grimaces. It's true Brett isn't much of heel material, and Fuerte being a tecnico doesn't exactly know what to do to be proper rudo. But he is reckless and brutal sometimes, which gives him enough insight to tell Brett exactly how to overcome his shy attitude "Listen amigo, I'm not telling you to swear up storms and hit people with lead pipes like my hermano Mick does. All you have to do is go in with a new darker get up and maybe grunt a couple of times. You can do that, can you?"
"In fact..."
Uh oh...this is bad.
"We should practice!"
Brett finds himself feeling more and more hesitant at the wild ideas that keep coming from Fuerte. "N-no, and that's the problem. I don't want spikes going where I know I'm gonna spike someone if I get too caught up!" he insists. Sure, he wants to do good, but that's not including accidently impaling someone on a costume element just to 'darken his image', and everything. "I mean....the leather jacket's fine, but the spikes...no way..." he insists.
And then... "...practice...you mean like, spar?" He asks, swallowing a little. Sure, it's not quite as daunting as actually trying to make him into Casey Jones the 2nd, but still, he's an obvious neophyte compared to the seasoned tecnico. "Um...I...guess?" he says, giving in to the idea much more easily than he would the costume spikes. But his expression says everything about just how bad an idea he feels it'll end up.
"Alright, alright, no spikes!" Huff! El Fuerte is starting to see why people get miffed with tecnicos sometimes, their goody goody attitude makes it difficult to get anything done! "Besides, if we can get you to act even just a little bit different you won't need them! Don't worry I have trained with the best Garbage Wrestler around, I know how to bring the malo inside of you!"
Why yes, El Fuerte does mean a spar. Out of nowhere comes his trusty frying pan and he spins it around on his palm by the handle. "If anything at least you'll get to get used to that helmet of yours." Settling on a wrestling stance, lowering his torso slightly, Fuerte smiles up at Brett thinking of how exactly make him act meaner without getting him in a berserking frenzy. "Alright..first things first!
"We shall work on your battle cries! That is something that is definitely different from the Brett we all know and love!"
COMBATSYS: ElFuerte has started a fight here.
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ElFuerte 0/-------/------=|
COMBATSYS: Brett has joined the fight here.
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ElFuerte 0/-------/------=|-------\-------\0 Brett
"For example..try this!"
Raising his frying pan high up in the air, El Fuerte dashes at Brett with demonic speed in an attempt to whack him over the head with it! "AYAYAYAYAYAYAYAY!!"
COMBATSYS: Brett endures ElFuerte's Tepache Bomb.
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ElFuerte 0/-------/-----==|===----\-------\0 Brett
It's not Brett's fault that he's as genuine as he is. He's never had much reason to do anything but wear his heart on his sleeve before, you know, so trying to make him play another character is...well, it's a difficult prospect. He never went out for drama club for a reason, that's for sure. "R-right..." he says, swallowing and hastily starting to unhitch the stick on his back. Especially when that frying pan comes out of nowhere into the luchador's hand
Of course, he can't get it unhitched fast enough to avoid the blow to the top of his helmet...so he doesn't even bother moving. He takes the smash, leaning into it and letting it ring off the helm. Sure, he still ends up backing off a bit as a result, but it certainly is a wake up call. Fuerte might not see it, of course, with the visor dropping down after that hit. "Nnnhh..." he growls, starting to get into that zone he usually ends up in when fighting. Perhaps not the most productive state to be teaching Brett in, but it's not like he goes full on berserker without good reason either.
With stick finally unhitched, Brett drives in straight toward Fuerte. "HRRRRAAAAAHH!!" he shouts, less of a battle cry and more of a shout of exertion as he tries to slam the strike straight and hard into Fuerte's chest, a faint blue glow around his stick's blade as he strikes out.
COMBATSYS: ElFuerte endures Brett's Red Sabre.
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ElFuerte 0/-------/---====|====---\-------\0 Brett
At the very least Brett is pretty darn tough, they won't have to work much in that aspect as it is required for bonna fide street vigilantes such as themselves. They aren't playing in little leagues anymore, with no sign of Haggard, Guy or Cody, it's up to El Fuerte and his amigos to keep the streets of Metro City clean!
"Yes yes! Just like that!" The Luchador nods when Brett takes the blow to the head and gets angry, lashing out at him with an energy covered stick. The Mexican wrestler brings his arms up as if he's seemingly taking the attack right in the ribs and brings his them down to wrap his muscled biceps around the weapon to hold Brett in place. "Now try to make it sound less desperate, if you cry out too hard it sounds like you're scared! It should sound as if you're enjoying attacking! Like this!!"
El Fuerte pulls on the hockey stick, placing a foot right on Brett's gut to flip him over with a Judo like throw and slam him on his back!
"RUUAAH!!"
"That always frightens them at least a little, hehe."
COMBATSYS: ElFuerte successfully hits Brett with Chili Mexicano.
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ElFuerte 0/-------/--=====|=======\=------\1 Brett
WHile he might have managed to smash Fuerte in the sides, Brett isn't prepared for his stick to be pulled back on, nor for the foot to leverage into his gut and send him flying overhead onto his back. He's certainly not prepared for it, a hard landing straight onto the hard concrete jarring the hockey kid rather fierce. "NGhhnnnn..."
It's hard to tell whether he's absorbing the lessons or not, from his general lack of communication back. He does end up coming back to his feet though, slowly rising despite the hard slam. Gritting his teeth, he drives in again, a bit of speed gained before he flips over and toward Fuerte, trying to smash him in the crown with a somersaulting heel drop...even without his skates, it should hopefully be a nice hit. And as for his cry? "RRRRAAAAAAHHH!!!" Still might need some work.
COMBATSYS: Brett successfully hits ElFuerte with Falling Star EX.
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ElFuerte 1/-------/=======|=======\==-----\1 Brett
Well, El Fuerte is not really going for an all out fight here, he is just trying to spar and teach Brett a thing or two about getting into super hero character. He's not following up the attack with anything as he merely gets back to his feet watching how the hockey kid is going to react.
And his response is...very...lively.
"Ay caramba!" When Brett jumps off the deep end to bring a spinning axe kick right into his nogging, El Fuerte put his frying pan up for an overhead block which only manages to force him to smack himself in the head with the skillet before being forced down into the ground face first. With his chest slamming against the ground, the luchador rubs his head and begins to stand up slowly. "Okay okay, I see what the problem is. You seem to be keeping your emotions in check because you fear you won't control them if they get out."
El Fuerte gets up and cracks his neck slightly. "I'll tell you amigo, what my old lucha coach told me when I got angry. You must not let your body control you, /you/ must control your body! With the way you are screaming at the top of your lungs it sounds like you've completely lost it! Don't let the enemy know you're totally out of control, it must look like you're are always in command, each swing is well planned and executed, not swung randomly!"
El Fuerte takes a few steps back and stays completely still. "Hit me again, with precision and brutality but without tears in your eyes."
"Strike me as if I had injured your parents and you thought it was irrelevant, you are just doing your job. Your anger is not fueling your attacks, it is your contempt."
Okay, looks like El Fuerte is pretty much digging his own grave here.
COMBATSYS: ElFuerte takes no action.
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ElFuerte 1/-------/=======|=======\==-----\1 Brett
The crashing Falling Star does it's job, Brett faltering a bit but gaining his footing again in preparation for another go...until it's apparent that El Fuerte isn't continuing on. Like a switch, Brett ends up coming down, his posture changing from that aggressive, ready to charge tenseness, to his usual loose, slightly apprehensive stance. "...Um....s-sorry," he says, rubbing the back of his neck. "Just...you know, getting into a zone for when I have to fight," he says. "Like on the rink too. Trying to give 100% of everything when I'm out doing stuff," he says, scratching the back of his scalp embarrassedly.
"Wait...what? Emotions? Um...." Brett could swear he wasn't exactly getting emotional or sounding like he was crying...was he? He turns back toward Fuerte, blinking a bit, especially at his attempt at motivation. "Um....ok." With that, Brett settles himself...then swings out, though the mid-level slash doesn't seem to have quite as much pep on it as he'd mean to. Seems like trying for the 'what's my motivation' approach isn't terribly effective on the kid.
COMBATSYS: ElFuerte endures Brett's Weakened Medium Strike.
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ElFuerte 1/------=/=======|=======\==-----\1 Brett
For one who's always so happy go lucky, El Fuerte could almost swear that Brett's warcries sounded like he had been incredibly offended at something and was lashing out in desperate fury. The Luchador might be judging him wrong though, it could be that he Brett was in total control of his anger and his war cry just 'happened' to sound as if he was going berserk. His always give a 100% percent on everything is something that the Luchador can respect however, and he nods with his head thinking he has made a real break through with the hockey kid.
Except that his next attack that strikes him on the ribs is laughably weak, even someone like El Fuerte who is not used to stopping attacks with his chest can tough through it. "Ooff!" He winces slightly and then smacks himself in the head. "No, no, I didn't mean take it easy on me!" He sighs. "It has to be...it is difficult to explain, hmrgg...man, I'm bad at this, I wish la Seņorita Fuji were here!" Because sure, the emotionally dead woman is totally going to be better at pep talking Brett than the plucky luchador. "But it's good! You show that you can switch from hot to cold in a hurry, that in itself can be considered acting! You just have to make it more..I dunno...fluid?" El Fuerte also scratches the back of his head, he's not one that is in total control of his body all the time either...or at least people can't tell by the way he acts.
"Let's stop here, maybe what we need is a total new get up! That ought to bring the rudo in you!"
Brett blinks a little more as he realizes he's not exactly hitting with as much pop as he was earlier, even if he hits Fuerte directly in the ribs again. He can even tell considering the lessened feedback through his stick. "Um...sorry. I mean...I've kind of dropped out of that zone I guess," he says sheepishly. "Um...I dunno how fluid it can really be, you know? I mean, if it's going to be a real fight.."
Pushing the visor back up on his helmet, the expression definitely seems frustrated on the boy's face as he tries to find the right words for it. "...you know, it's kind of like...a drag race, kinda like that? I don't let up well if I'm actually fighting." Anyone whose seen his fights has probably seen that, though his televised fights may not show just how swiftly he drops out of 'the zone' after the fight is said and done with.
And the continued pressuring on getting a totally new costume makes him even more anxious. "As long as I don't have to do spikes?"
"I know, I know, I used to be like that." Laughs El Fuerte patting Brett on his broad back. "It comes with practice amigo, don't worry, stick with me long enough and you'll be able to snap in and out of 'the zone' as you call at will!" Or more like, roll with Fuerte long enough and he won't be able to tell when he's in and out of the zone at all due to the insanity rubbing off on him.
"Fine, fines, no spikes." Says the luchador a little exasperated. It's like he never can find someone that's the middle ground, if it ain't MURDERHOUSE Mick trying to put spikes in everything it's Brett trying to keep it all clean and proper. "But how about some metal padding instead??"
Yeah, he's not letting this one go.
The unspoken implication that Fuerte doesn't seem quite aware of isn't lost on Brett, a look of bracing worry on his face that leaves his unease unspoken...for now. Strapping his stick onto his back again, the winger sighs, adjusting his helmet again, and looking at his shoes. There's got to be a good way to make shoes that can turn into GOOD inline skates so he doesn't have to go either flatfooted OR lug his skates about for emergencies.
The metal padding part gets his attention. "...Metal padding?...you mean like Brian Battler?" he asks, rubbing the back of his neck. He wouldn't mind that out of practicality actually, but...the look....
Log created on 16:32:04 06/23/2012 by Brett, and last modified on 14:55:32 06/25/2012.